Un Amour, Un Durée de Vie
by Queen Madisyn of Narnia
Summary: What if the Phantom's response to Christine's actions at the end of Phantom of the Opera was different than Hollywood put it? Feast your eyes, dear reader, on what happened when Raoul was let free- but Christine was not. Title: One Love, One Lifetime
1. Prologue

It all happened quite fast. I can only recall parts of that dreadful night.

Moments after Raoul was allowed into the opera ghost's clutches, he was tied to the gate, a Punjab lasso around his neck.

"Don't throw your life away for mine!" I remember him shouting at me.

Too late.

I walked up to the raging man, and kissed him full on the mouth. _Let Raoul go free,_ I thought. _Take me instead_.

That's exactly what he did.


	2. Chapter 1

~Five Years Later~

It was a particularly dreary Thursday evening. The usually comforting soft _swish _of the lake water, which usually reminded me of peaceful afternoons sitting under a tree by a creek in my old Swedish home, with Father playing his violin and telling Raoul and I tales of Little Lotte and the Angel of Music, had lost its effect today. I was sitting on my bed, which belonged to Erik, who had been kind enough to make himself another. In my hand was a pen, on my lap was blank sheet music, on the bed beside me was a bottle of ink.

I was writing a song. Erik had also given me some blank sheet music, as he knows my musical abilities. I had no musical instrument of my own, so I hummed a tune and wrote the notes as I went.

This song was slow and soft, a melodic tune with many flats and neutrals. I had secretly titled it "Raoul". I couldn't tell Erik, he'd be furious. Erik hated- _hated- _Raoul, and forbid talk of him. If he asked what I called the song, I'd tell him I hadn't titled it yet.

When I wasn't sitting in bed writing music, I was writing down music for Erik. He'd play a tune, one measure at a time, on his organ, and I would copy it down. Erik was a musical genius, as Madame Giry once put it. But, as Raoul said, genius had indeed turned to madness.

Erik _had_ given me a choice. I could've gone free, but at the price of Raoul's life. I couldn't bear for my true love to die. So I took the other choice; live with Erik.

I didn't necessarily regret my decision; it saved Raoul. But nearly every day I was miserable, stuck in the damp, foggy catacombs of the _Palais Garnier _with a deformed musical genius.

I'd tried to escape several times, but failed to get far. Once I actually found my way to my old dressing room, but before I could step through the mirror, Erik got a hold of me, and carried me back down to the catacombs. He didn't speak to me the rest of the night, not that I minded, I refused to speak to him. But the next day he was back to normal, doing whatever it is Opera Ghosts do when they're not killing people and trapping innocent singers in his dungeons. Ha-ha.

But tonight would be different. Tonight, the opera house above us was performing, once again, Il Muto. I remembered the last performance of the opera, when Buqet was killed, and Raoul took Erik's place, unknowingly, in Box 5, which, to this day, he still uses to watch performances. Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre have grown wise of Erik's actions, and how to please him. They now send him twenty thousand francs every month, rather, they place the francs in Box 5, which no one dares to enter.

During most performances in the opera house, Erik went to watch alone, since I no longer cared much for that sort of thing. Secretly, I still loved to sing, just not for Erik. Deceitful beast.

But on some occasions, Erik would ask me if I'd like to come. If I wished to see an opera, he'd take me with him, to Box 5, where we'd watch the performance.

On the night of a performance of Faust, he asked me to join him, which I did. I ultimately regretted going with him. In the middle of Act 3, there was a beautiful violin solo, slurring and playing its soft, rhythmic tune to its hearts content. The music reminded me of Father, which caused me to cry. I turned away from Erik, hoping he wouldn't notice. He knew I was unhappy enough, and I didn't want to leave in the middle of the show- it was one of my only times of "freedom".

But he did, of course.

"What's the matter?" he asked, his seductive voice sounding slightly worried.

"Nothing," I muttered, turning away from him. _Stupid tears_, I thought, wiping them away. I felt like Persephone, sitting in the underworld with Hades. Unhappy. Only Persephone was allowed to leave for allotted amounts of time, and I was not.

"_Mon amour_, clearly that's not true."

I cursed under my breath. Erik didn't hear. He put his arm around me as I cried into his chest.

"It reminds me of Father," I choked between sobs.

Erik said no more as stroked my hair and comforted me. He could be such a _gentleman_! I could never truly hate Erik. I still don't. I merely disagreed with his keeping me hostage.

Every time something like that happened, I thought of Raoul. I thought of how he did this for me that night on the balcony, singing our love for each other. That love wasn't over, it was just separated. We were separated, that is.

But Erik loved me, too. It was like my own personal love triangle. I never thought it would happen, yet it did on its own accord.

On this particularly dreary Thursday, I decided to visit Erik while he wrote his music. I did visit him sometimes, but only if I was in a particularly good mood. That was quite rare, if you haven't already noticed. I set down the sheet music, pen, and ink on the bedside table, and parted the velvet curtains that enclosed the bedroom-like area.

Erik was, as usual, positioned at his organ, half- written sheet music on the stand, hands on the keys, moving swiftly, emitting a beautiful tune I recognized almost instantly. I took my place sitting next to him on the bench, being careful not to disturb his playing. For some reason, Erik still preferred to wear his white half mask around me, or anyone else, though I don't know why. My friend, Meg, took his old one, so he fashioned a new one out of plaster.

Erik smiled as I sat next to him. He always took my sitting beside him at the organ as a sign of a good mood, which was true. He hated it when I was sad, or unhappy, and he hated for me to pretend like I was happy.

As he continued to play, I sang along.

_Angel of music, guide and guardian_

_Grant to me your glory_

_Angel of music, hide no longer_

_Come to me strange angel_

"Well done," Erik said as he finished the piece.

"Thank you, _monsieur_," I said.

Erik began playing the next tune that came to mind, which I happened to know by heart. How could I forget it?

_Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation_

_Darkness stirs and wakes imagination_

Erik joined me as I sang;

_Silently the senses abandon their defenses_

At the end of the song, Erik said, "They're performing Il Muto tonight. Do you want to see it?"

This was the hard part of my plan. I was supposed to make him angry and leave without me. Then I'd run for it.

But I couldn't find the words to hurt him. My voice wouldn't let me. Instead, I said, "I'd love to."

Erik smiled, clearly pleased. How it made my heart swell, his happiness!

No! I mentally cursed myself, remembering that I was here against my will, and that I should be with Raoul, and our children, seeing whatever opera I pleased, perhaps even performing in it!

But I didn't say anything. Instead, I smiled.

_I'll escape someday,_ I thought. _I'll find Raoul. I'll finally be happy._

But my heart wasn't in the thought of freedom that night.


	3. Chapter 2

Erik was surprisingly well prepared for his, ah, _guests_. My little "room" had a wardrobe full of beautiful dresses, including the wedding dress he made me wear on the night Raoul was let free- and I was not.

Erik and I were to leave for Il Muto in ten minutes. I dressed myself in a lavish red dress, embroidered with gold velvet. One time, when we went to see a production of La Dame Blanche, Erik asked me if he could help me put my dress on, resulting in me pushing him in the lake. He merely laughed.

That night, Erik wore his usual tuxedo, black cape, wig, and white mask. Even though everyone knew who was behind the mask, he still wore it.

We set off through the catacombs without a word. Erik tried to break the silence. "How is your song coming along?" he asked casually.

I shrugged. "Pretty well. I wrote the vocal music, but I'm not sure how to write organ music."

"You write music for me," he reminded me.

I smirked. "In vocal clefs."

Erik smiled, relieved at my rare moment of levity. He didn't care what clef I wrote music in; he could pick up a tune in a second's time.

"What do you call it?"

_Merde_, I thought. Fully intending not to call it "Raoul" to Erik's face, I merely said, "I haven't titled it yet."

To my relief, he merely nodded his conformation.

I must admit that after five years of living with Erik, I still don't see his plan. So he kidnaps me, nearly kills my fiancé, and now he has me. Is he hoping Raoul would come after me, hoping to save me, so that he could kill him? _No_, I kept telling myself. _You signed yourself up for this life, now deal with it, Christine_.

We spoke no more on the journey to Box 5. Once seated, he ever- so- stupidly put his arm around me. I ignored it, which was also pretty stupid of me. He started to pull me closer, and I pulled away. He sighed, removed his arm from around my shoulders, and stared at the stage instead.

"What's the problem now?" I asked, confused. I immediately regretted asking. He turned to face me, his expression livid.

"What's the matter?" he asked in return. "What do you think? I've given you a home, food, clothing, a bed of your own, I've let you live here-"

"Against my will," I threw in. "I-"

"_Let me finish_," he said, moving his face too close for comfort. "I've been kind- _very_ kind, believe it or not- and when I simply put my arm around you, you back away. Why?"

I didn't answer.

"_Why?_" he asked again, shaking my shoulders.

I took a deep breath. "Erik," I began. "I know you've been kind, and I appreciate it. But I- I'm not happy here. I'm here against my will. You know that."

Erik put his head in his hands. I sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. He shook it off.

"Now who's backing away," I murmured.

Erik didn't respond. Smart of him. Knowing Erik, if he'd said anything, he'd definitely lose control, something he tried not to do on a daily basis.

Il Muto began. Neither of us paid any attention.

For once, I felt sorry for the man. No, this actually wasn't the first time. But I wanted freedom, right? No more darkness, no more gates keeping me from Raoul, from the world above me.

After several moments of uncomfortable silence, I gave up.

"Erik," I said softly. "Please forgive me. I- I'm sorry for the way I acted. You- you were just trying to be nice. You _are_ trying to be nice."

Erik's eyes met mine, an unfathomable expression on his face.

"_You're_ sorry?" he repeated, surprised. "_I'm_ the one who should be apologizing."

"Erik, you-"

He held up his hand, my words fading away. "Please," he said. "I _have_ kept you here against your will. If only you understood why….." His voice faded, unable to continue.

"Maybe I'd understand if you told me," I whispered.

Erik shook his head. "Not now," he said.

I gave him a confused look, not understanding what he meant.

He sighed. "Christine," he said, "you know I love you, correct?"

I nodded, having no clue where he was going with this conversation.

"Well," he continued, "when you and…. that man, were singing on the roof five years ago, I sort of overheard you."

My jaw dropped. Singing on the roof- that's when I discovered my love for Raoul!

"Oh, Erik!" I whispered, my tone sincerely anguished. "I didn't- I'm sorry! I didn't know! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew you loved him," he said. "I didn't want to make you unhappy. But, well, you dropped the rose I gave you. Left it there. It broke my heart." His voice was barely a whisper at this point.

Tears were flowing freely down my cheeks. _Why am I crying? _I asked myself. _This is stupid, Christine. He kidnapped you- and is keeping you from your fiancé! And you're _crying_ for him?_

"Christine," he moaned. "Don't cry. It isn't your fault. None of this is your fault."

_Of course it is, stupid, _I thought. I also thought of a question I'd never had the heart to ask him.

"Then why am I here?" I mouthed, my voice almost inaudible.

Erik's expression was beyond devastated.

"I couldn't bear to let you go," he admitted finally.

"I- I-"

I never finished that sentence. Instead, I ran for it.

I sprinted down the steps from Box 5, running through the grand hall, where a masquerade ball had taken place, only to be crashed by yours- truly. I remembered walking through this hall many times in my days as a singer at the opera house, when I was tutored by the so- called "Angel of Music".

For a few moments I met no resistance for my escape. _This is it!_ I told myself. _You're actually escaping! You can find Raoul, find your true love, be happy again!_

Of course he wouldn't let me go that easy.

It wasn't long before I heard footsteps coming from the staircase leading to Box 5. Instinctively, I ran faster, already knowing I wouldn't make it.

I ran as far as the lobby before being caught. Erik's strong arms locked around my waist. I was hopeless. Try as I might, there was no escape.

Seeing no way out, I gave up. I spun around and sobbed into his shoulder. Erik murmured comforting words to me in French.

"Don't cry, mon amour. Tout est bien," he said.

"Everything's alright?" I exclaimed incredulously, tears still flowing from my eyes. "Then why can't I be free? Why can't you let me go?"

Erik had many answers for that. Yet he said nothing.

A/N: Tout est bien is French for "everything's alright", as Christine mentioned. Mon amour means "my love".


	4. Chapter 3

After standing and crying for a while, I finally asked Erik if he wanted to watch the rest of Il Muto.

"No, we should go back." I knew what he meant by back. Neither of us knew what to call it, I preferred either "dungeons of my black despair" or "the lair". Erik usually referred to it as "the catacombs".

We traveled in silence. I, as I did every time I tried to escape, refused to speak to him. _Why wouldn't he let me go? _I thought, knowing the answer. He couldn't bear to see me go.

Once inside the catacombs, I walked to my bedroom without a word. Erik watched me go, sighed, and sat at his organ.

I spent most of the night crying, as I did on all nights like this. I missed singing for an audience, I missed dancing in the ballet company. I missed Meg, Madame Giry, the dancers, Raoul. Raoul, Raoul, Raoul.

I tried not to think of him much. It only made me cry harder. But at times like this, when I hope of freeing myself, I can't help but hope of seeing his face.

But what if I did escape? What if no one remembered me? What if they died in the fire? What if-

What if they thought I was _dead_?

No, No, No, No, _NO_! He _can't_ think I'm dead!

_Please, Raoul,_ I thought helplessly. _I'm not dead! I'm alive! Please remember me! I love you! I'm not dead! _

After my sobs faded away, I heard footsteps coming towards my bedroom.

_Merde,_ I thought. I had been hoping he'd leave me alone.

Of course he didn't leave me alone. He hated it when I was sad. What did I expect from the love- starved man?

Erik entered silently, carrying a silver tray with bread, cheese, and wine on it. My supper.

"Thank you," I whispered as he set the tray on my table. Erik nodded, then left.

I felt so alone. My only companion, aside from Erik, who tried ever so hard not to lose control on his temper, and sometimes failed to do so. Like that night, when he blew up after I asked what the problem was. That's exactly the kind of thing he tried not to do. Then I try to run away, and break what's left of his heart.

Poor Erik. I truly felt bad for him.

_Well,_ I thought. _While you're stuck here, why don't you try and cheer him up? Make him happy, even if you're not?_

I remembered my Father telling me, "If you have the chance to effect the life of another's in a positive way, take it." And I would. I'd be kind to Erik, as he had been kind to me.

After finishing my supper, I slipped out of my bedroom quietly. Erik was, as usual, seated at his organ. When was he not?

Erik turned and saw me, his expression shocked. I gave him a sheepish grin.

"What's the matter?" I asked, frowning.

"Nothing, nothing," he assured me. "Just shocked that you actually want my company."

I frowned deeper. He had a truly awful past, and I didn't make the situation any better with my past actions.

"Of course I want your company," I said softly, sitting next to him.

"I thought you hated me," he murmured, staring at the keys of the organ.

"Erik," I said. "I could never, ever, hate you." I placed my hand on his shoulder. This time, he didn't shake it off.

He looked up at me, his eyes full of anguish and surprise. "Really?"

"I know I haven't acted like it," I admitted, "but I don't. You're one of the nicest people I've ever met." _Even if you kill innocent people, and kidnap them, too,_ I added mentally. Then again, he hadn't done any murdering or kidnapping for the past five years; maybe he was past that.

"Will you play me a song?" I asked, desperate to change the subject.

Erik smiled. "Any requests?"

I shook my head.

Erik played the first song that came to mind. I mentally cried hearing it. I wouldn't cry anymore, not in front of Erik; he'd seen enough of my tears.

Erik played for me my auditioning song from Hannibal; Think of Me. I couldn't help but eventually sing along.

_Think of me, think of me waking_

_Silent and resigned_

_Imagine me, trying to hard _

_To put you from my mind_

_Recall those days, look back on all those times_

_Think of the things we'll never do_

_There will never be a day when_

_I won't think of you!_

"Beautiful," Erik praised. I blushed.

"Thank you, monsieur," I replied.

For some reason I have yet to find, I never thought of how well that song fitted my life. It was as if I was meant to sing it; it reminded me of how I would never see Raoul again.

_But I could try and escape again,_ I thought.

_No! _I reprimanded myself. _Do you want to hurt Erik even more? You're a smart girl, Christine. He needs you!_

Erik glanced at the large grandfather clock in the corner of the room. How or where he acquired it I didn't know.

"It's getting late," he said. "You should go to bed."

"What about you?"

He smiled. "I'll consider it."

I walked off to my room, closed the velvet curtains, and changed into my nightdress. I sat still for some time, until I heard Erik's voice at the curtains.

"Can I come in?" he asked softly.

"Yes, of course," I said.

Erik was smiling when he entered. I smiled back.

"I wanted to thank you for keeping me company tonight," he said softly. "I appreciated it." He paused. "Did you mean what you said? About not hating me?"

"Erik, of course!" I exclaimed. I stood up, a hand on his arm. "Of course I don't hate you!"

He smiled. "All the same," he said. "Thank you."

A/N: Okay, I need your help. Do you want more details, or should I skip to the exciting, epic part I have planned? Tell me what you think!


	5. Chapter 4

I had a nightmare that night. A horrible, _horrible_ nightmare.

_I was in Erik's lair. It was the night I decided to save Raoul's life and stay with him. Only this time Raoul was trying to kill Erik, making me decide._

"_Come on, Christine!" he shouted. "You're a smart girl! Or has opera melted your brain?"_

_Erik tried to speak, but Raoul only choked him harder with the Punjab lasso._

"_Raoul, don't!" I screamed. "Don't!"_

"_He's keeping you from me, from your life, from your career! He deserves a taste of his own medicine!" With that, Raoul pulled all the harder. Erik's face was whiter than a sheet, his eyes bulging._

"_Christine-" Erik choked out._

"STOP!" I screamed. I sat upright in bed, panting hard. It was dark, all but a few candles had been blown out.

"Are you alright?" Erik asked, stepping inside my room. "I heard you scream."

I tried, without success, to catch my breath. "Just- just a nightmare."

Erik sat beside me on the bed. "Would you like to tell me about it?"

I shook my head violently. " It was nothing."

"Then why did you wake up, screaming, 'Stop!'?"

I had no answer.

"It was- it was- Raoul." A sour expression covered the unmasked side of his face. "He- he was trying to- to-" I stopped, unable to continue.

The sour expression was replaced by a look of concern. "What was he trying to do?" Finally, I spit it out.

"He was trying to- to kill- you."

Erik pulled me onto his lap, as I cried into his chest. I knew it was only a dream, yet the haunting picture of a strangled Erik and a half- crazy Raoul wouldn't leave my mind.

"It's alright, _mon amour_." he soothed. "It was only a dream."

"He- he scared me, Erik. He can't kill you. I- I would never let him."

"Neither would I," Erik said. "Especially if it would hurt you."

I bit back saying, "If it would hurt me as well, he wouldn't do it." Erik wouldn't have liked that.

Eventually I stopped crying. I kissed Erik softly on his unmasked cheek.

"Thank you," I said.

He smiled. "You're welcome."

I reclined back onto my pillows and curled up under the warm, velvet sheets. Erik stood up to leave.

"No!" I exclaimed suddenly. 'Don't leave me!"

He faced me again, surprised at my outburst.

"I- I don't want to have that dream again," I said.

Erik pulled up a chair next to my bed. Knowing the cure to bad dreams, he began to sing, his soft tenor voice filling my mind, replacing the vivid images of my dream.

_Softly, deftly music shall caress you_

_Hear it, feel it secretly possess you_

_Open up you mind let your fantasies unwind _

_In this darkness which you know you cannot fight _

_The darkness of the music of the night._

A/N: What do you think? Review, and tell me what you think! Sorry for the short chapter. I think Erik's sweetness makes up for the length, eh?


	6. Chapter 5

I woke up the next morning alone. Erik had left a note on my bedside table, which read:

_**Mon Amour, Christine,**_

_**By the time you're awake and reading this, I'll be well on my way buying food for the week. I will be back soon. Please don't do anything rash while I'm gone. You know I'll find you.**_

_**All my love,**_

_**~Erik**_

I laughed aloud. _Don't do anything rash_- of course he'd worry about me trying to escape! Not that he needed to anymore. I had promised myself that I'd stay with him, even if it killed me, which it probably wouldn't.

The note had been set next to my breakfast, also on the table. I ate ravenously; bad dreams usually made me hungry. After finishing, I got dressed and worked on my song for a while.

Writing a song grew boring. I decided to sit by the lake and wait for Erik to return. Maybe he'd have something else for me to do today.

The foggy island, dimly lit by hundreds of candles, reminded me of my visits to his realm while I sang for the opera company. I smiled, remembering my first time here. I remembered the hall from my mirror, the many flights of stairs, the horse ride, the boat that took me to the island. It seemed like only yesterday, then again, it seemed like a million years ago.

I sighed. Try as I might, I couldn't get Raoul out of my head. The kind, gentle, loving Raoul. Not the Raoul from my dream last night. No, that Raoul didn't exist.

I remembered that night on the roof, where he said he loved me. Then, a memory I'd probably been trying to cover up burst into my mind. It was of Erik.

"_I gave you my music, made your song take wing, and now, how you've repaid me, denied me and betrayed me."_

_Tears falling from his eyes, Erik bent down and picked up the rose Christine had dropped. _

"_He was bound to love you, when he heard you sing- Christine-" Words escaping his grasp, he simply cried, head bent, staring at the snow covered roof._

_Memories of watching Christine and Raoul singing happily with each other flooded into his mind. She could never love him. How could she love such a beast, such a monster?_

"_It wasn't her fault," he thought. "It's that Vicomte's."_

_Fury boiling inside him like lava in a volcano, about to erupt, he crushed the rose, petals strewing among the snow. He dropped the remnants, climbed atop a stone gargoyle, and shouted to the sky,_

"_You will curse the day you did not do,_

_All that the Phantom asked of- __**you**__!"_

I couldn't help but cry at Erik's misery. Tears were flowing freely down my cheeks. Thankfully, Erik wasn't here to see them.

How could I have forgotten that? It seemed as if I was trying to forget the Phantom and be happy in my new life with Raoul, which I learned, was the case.

"Poor Erik," I mumbled. "Still….."

I was tired of crying. I was tired of all this drama, and I desperately needed fresh air. I wanted to feel the sunlight on my porcelain skin.

A crazy, stupid, pathetic idea popped into my head. Not able to think sensibly at the time, I ran.

Rather, I swam. The boat was at the other side of the gate; Erik would've had to use it to get across. My dress was soaked, my hair lay in curly wet clumps on my head. I was a mess.

I was able to swim under the gate; the spikes did not touch the bottom of the moat. Still, I could visualize all too well the spears impaling me.

Once again on dry land, I began my climb up the stairs, racing past the candles held by golden arms, and into my old dressing room, by way of the mirror.

_I made it!_

Erik would be devastated; he'd come after me.

_Let him come, _I thought. _You'll never escape, anyways._

Way to think positive, right?

I made my way into my untouched dressing room. It had literally been untouched, cobwebs dangling from the ceiling, bed half made, dried up flowers and stems in an empty vase. It hadn't been touched since Don Juan.

I left the room silently, not knowing what to do. I was actually _free, _but I had no one to turn to, no one but Erik, who would only imprison me once more.

_Where was Raoul?_

I needed to think. I needed time alone, to figure out what to do with my freedom.

But where? If I stayed in the opera house, Erik would find me sooner or later. I have no idea where my friends are, and I don't know if they're alive or not.

"_Christine."_

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sudden voice beside me, behind me, all around me.

"_Why?"_ the voice asked. _"Why do you run?"_

"You know why," I said, surprised at how calm my voice sounded, when, in truth, I was immensely frightened, my heart pounding in my ears, creating a lump in my throat. "I've been prisoner long enough, don't you think?"

The voice sighed. I heard footsteps behind me.

I ran as fast as my weary legs would carry me. I ran to the first place I could think of- the roof.

The winding wooden stairs creaked as I jogged up. Maybe someone would hear me and save me from being Erik's prisoner again.

Finally I walked out onto the bright rooftop. The sun shone high in the morning sky, which was a perfect, cloudless blue. I closed my eyes, tilting my head towards the sky. Leaning against a stone rail, I smiled. It had been years since I had felt the warm summer sun on my face, and it felt nice.

"_Christine."_ Again, the voice said my name.

"Yes?" I asked nonchalantly.

"_I thought I asked you not to try and escape again,"_ he said, with minor emphasis on "try".

"A girl can dream," I murmured, lost in the warmth of the sun.

"Is that what you dream about?" Erik asked, stepping out from behind a gargoyle. "Leaving me with a broken heart?"

"Erik," I groaned. "Please. I wasn't leaving _permanently_. I just wanted some fresh air. The catacombs get a bit stuffy after five years."

Erik walked up to me and held my hand.

"Just so you don't leave," he said.

"Not going to happen," I assured him.

He laughed. "I should bring you up here more often." He conceded with a slight smile. "You seem to enjoy it. And you're right about the catacombs getting stuffy after a while."

I smiled back. It still surprised me how kind Erik was. During most of my career at the opera, he had been a kidnapper and murderer of the innocent. Now he was a friend. That, and a jailer, so to speak, but I didn't like to think of him like that.

"I do enjoy it," I agreed. "And I promise that I will _never _leave you for good."

"For good?" Erik repeated with a laugh. "Christine, I would never let you leave in the first place."

I frowned. "I won't go far," I added.

"How far is far?"

I had to laugh. "Outside the opera," I compromised.

"No," he said. "What if someone saw you?

Again, I frowned. He really did want to keep me to himself. "They won't. I'll only come up here, if it makes you happy."

"Only if I accompany you."

"You really don't trust me, do you?"

"Not really, no."

I laughed, unable to hold a downcast mood. For the time being, I was "free", if for only a moment.

"Why is it…" I let my question hang in the air.

"You know why," he said. Apparantly he knew what I was talking about.

"You want me to be happy, right?" I asked.

"Of course," he said suspiciously.

"Well, why don't you start by trusting me a little?" I asked. "Let me move freely through the opera. I won't get caught; no one will see me, Erik. _Please_."

Erik shook his head, looking down at the city below us, refusing to meet my pleading gaze.

"You wouldn't come back," he mumbled.

"Erik!" I exclaimed. "Of course I would come back! I've broken your heart enough, and I'll never do it again, I swear! Besides, for all I know, everyone I've known besides you is dead."

Erik seemed to consider it for a moment, his eyes suggesting that I was wrong about the last sentence. Would he know if they were alive or not? Would he tell me?

"_Please_," I asked one final time.

Erik looked up at me, anguish and indecision in his eyes.

"If I let you move about the opera on your own free will," he said slowly, "you could only be gone for specific amounts of time."

I couldn't conceal my giddy excitement. "Thank you!" I said, hugging him for the first time. "Thank you!"

Erik looked at me, surprised, and added, "Three hours at a time, Christine. Or I _will _go after you."

I nodded quickly. At last, freedom was mine!

If only for a while. It wouldn't be long before I'd break every promise I'd just made, and break his heart in the process.


	7. Chapter 6

It was late at night. I had been thinking about the days events, my breathing coming in shallow gasps from the nightmare I'd awoken from.

That day, I'd decided to take a walk around the west wing of the opera, a section I'd never visited before. Usually, the west wing was off limits to opera goers, as well as performers, so I never had the chance to explore it.

Today the west wing had been exceptionally quiet, and as empty as ever. There were halls filled with wooden doors, a half scale version of the stage operas were performed on, and a dusty organ. I smiled. Had Erik been here before? Was he the reason this place was off limits?

I walked around aimlessly for a while until I heard a strangled gasp behind me.

I spun around and gasped as well.

It was one of my ballet friends, Augustine!

Augustine had been one of my first friends when I arrived at the opera many years ago, as well as Meg and a few others.

"Augustine?" I asked, not sure of what I was seeing. With my luck, I'd awake to Erik's voice in a moment.

"Christine?" she asked in return. "I- we all thought you- you were…"

"Dead?" I supplied. She nodded.

"Christine!" She ran over to me and enveloped me in a hug.

"It's good to see you, too, Augustine," I said with a smile.

"What are you doing here, of all places?" she asked. "I would've thought after what happened during Don Juan, you'd have left with Raoul and never looked back!"

My smile faded to a grim frown. Augustine gasped again.

"Wait- didn't the Opera Ghost kidnap you? I overheard Madame Giry say that to Monsieur Firmin. But I thought Raoul went to save you!"

"He did," I said softly. "But Erik made me choose; life with him and Raoul goes free, or freedom and Raoul's death."

"That's terrible!" she exclaimed. "And who's Erik?"

"No one," I mumbled.

"So you've been here with the Opera Ghost all these years? Oh, Christine," she placed a hand on my shoulder, "that was very brave."

I smiled. "He's just now beginning to trust me. I can move about the opera on my own free will, but only for three hours at a time. And he likes to take me to see the operas performed here."

"But, still, you're down in the catacombs all the time! It must get dreadfully boring, and uncomfortable, with _him_ staring at you all the time." She shuddered at the thought.

"I never thought I'd say this," I admitted, "but he's not all that bad. He writes the most beautiful music you've ever heard, and he can be very kind, and such a gentleman."

Augustine gave me a strange look. Then she smiled and nodded, as if she just realized something.

"Christine," she asked. "Be honest with me. Do you love him?"

My jaw dropped. "Love him? The Phantom? No, not ever. Augustine, my heart has been left with Raoul. If you ever see him, tell him that."

Augustine frowned. "If_ I _ever see him? What about _you_?"

I looked down. Realization spread across her face.

"Christine, I think you love the Phantom, but you won't admit it to me, _him_, or yourself. Stop pretending!"

"I don't love him!" I exclaimed, to Augustine's delight. "I honestly don't!"

Augustine danced around, singing

_Christine loves the Phantom,_

_Christine loves the Phantom!_

I slapped my hand over her mouth. "Quiet! He might hear you!"

"Let him hear!" she sang, turning her face to the ceiling and spinning in circles. "DO YOU HEAR ME, MR. PHANTOM? _CHRISTINE LOVES YOU_!"

"She does?" I heard Erik's voice say softly, with a hint of sadness in it.

"I'm sorry!" I called. "I didn't think I would meet her up here! She won't say anything to anyone, isn't that right, Augustine?"

"What?" she asked, coming out of her trance. "Oh, yes, Mr. Phantom. You have my word; your secrets are safe with me."

Erik chuckled. "Christine, your lunch is getting cold."

"I'll see you later, Christine!" Augustine called, skipping away.

Erik stepped out from behind the dust covered organ, smiling.

"You were following me!" I accused. "And to think I thought you trusted me!"

Erik pretended to look hurt. "I do trust you, Christine, I really do!" he pleaded. His frown turned into a smile almost automatically. "But it doesn't matter, now that you love me," he teased.

"Stop it," I said, pushing him away playfully. His smile grew.

"Come, mon amour! Your meal awaits you!" he said, grabbing my hand and leading me down the secret staircase.

Augustine kept her promise, and told no one that I was alive, which made Erik happy.

No one, no one but Raoul.


	8. Chapter 7

The next day, I met Augustine in the same place. I went alone, but whether Erik followed me that time or not, I didn't know.

"Christine!" Augustine greeted. "I wasn't sure you'd come!"

"Well, here I am," I said. "He's being very lenient about this, and it's a good thing we've both earned his trust."

Augustine smiled ear to ear. "I have a surprise for you, Christine!" she exclaimed happily. "Or should I call you Little Lotte?"

My heart stopped momentarily, then pounded in my ears at full blast.

"What did you…." I began.

But I didn't finish.

Because Raoul was there.

Raoul.

Raoul.

Raoul, Raoul, Raoul.

Raoul.

Raoul!

"Raoul!" I exclaimed, running into his widespread arms. Tears streamed down my cheeks. But not tears of sadness, the only tears I'd cried for the past five years. These were tears of joy.

"Christine!" he exclaimed with equal, if not more, excitement and joy.

"Raoul, oh Raoul!" I said as I cried into his shoulder.

"What's wrong?" he asked, pulling away so he could see my face.

"Nothing, Raoul, absolutely nothing! Everything is perfect! Oh, Raoul, I missed you so much!"

"I missed you, too, Christine," he said, hugging me again. We stood there hugging for such a long time that I didn't notice Augustine leave, a smile left permanently on her face.

"How has he treated you?" he asked, running his hands over me to check for wounds.

"I'm fine, Raoul! Absolutely fine. He's been much too kind, in my opinion," I said.

"Kind? Him? Christine, you were his prisoner. How could-"

"Were?" I'd noticed the past tense.

"Well, I was thinking that, if you still loved me," he said, getting down on one knee. He pulled out a familiar piece of jewelry- the ring I'd gotten from him before the masquerade ball five years ago! Only this was a different one; the original had been taken by Erik.

"Will you marry me?" he asked.

"Raoul, of course!" I exclaimed as he slid the ring on my middle finger.

"But…" I trailed off a bit. "What if he finds out? He's been known to follow me around." I glanced around the room, checking for Erik. Even if he had been there, I wouldn't have noticed him; he was impossible to spot.

"He won't," Raoul said determinedly. "I'll get you out of here, Christine. Count on that."

I nodded, having full confidence in my fiancée. The only one I didn't have confidence in was me.

I was having mixed feelings for Erik. One moment I hate his guts, the next he's my best friend. That's not exactly the best thing if your getting married- to someone else.


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: Internal conflict time! Ah, I love this chapter! Indecision is so fun to write! Tell me what you think!**

That night, I returned to Erik's home for the last time. I spent as much time listening to his music and talking to him as I could. This would be the last time I'd ever see him.

It made me sad to go. I'd miss the smell of the lake water and burning candles, the mysterious notes, waking up to his beautiful music, and, most of all, him.

Wait a second.

I'd miss _him_?

Where did _that_ come from? As far as I was concerned, I was deeply in love with Raoul, and I was to marry him soon. Where did all this missing Erik come from?

_Never mind that_, I told myself. _Just savor your last moments with him_.

Returning to the lair nearly split my heart in half. As I stepped of the gondola, Erik turned and smiled at me. I forced a smile back.

"How was your day?" he asked.

"If you mean my three hours," I joked with a smirk, "they were perfectly fine."

Erik laughed, and kissed my hand. In turn, I blushed and turned away. What was going on? I was trying to act normal, and it wasn't exactly working.

"You know," Erik said, turning my face towards him with his hand, "I think your friend was right. I think you do love me."

I blushed again, looking down. The look in my eyes would surely give away my plan.

"Do you?" he asked in a whisper.

Why did he have to make my plan so complicated? I was trying to leave without causing so much damage. If I told him I loved him, and I left, I'd break his heart. If I told him I didn't love him, I'd break his heart now and break it worse when I left.

For a few moments I was silent, my options pounding in my head, trying to convince me to choose one way or another. What made it worse was that part of me wanted to stay with Erik, and the other part of me wanted to leave with Raoul.

Why was love so complicated?

Without a second thought, I said,

"Yes."

The look in Erik's eyes shouted thousands of emotions at me, a few of them being surprise, anger, passion, disbelief, amusement, and, of course, love. There was always love in his eyes when he looked at me.

"Tell me the truth," he demanded.

"I did."

"Did you?" he asked. "Did you _really_? I always dreamed you'd love me, willed it to happen, never believing it would. How could anyone love _me_? This distorted, disfigured face? How could anyone love that?"

Erik ripped off his mask in a sudden fury. I didn't flinch from his face, nor scream, try to run away, or close my eyes to escape it, as he always expected me to do. Instead, I stared straight into his piercing green eyes.

"I. Love. You," I said, spacing the words for emphasis.

"No. You don't."

Erik walked away, sitting at his organ, head in his hands. I walked over and sat next to him, sliding closer to him when he backed away.

"Why is it so hard to believe that I love you?" I asked honestly. "And don't tell me it's because of your face. I wouldn't care of your whole face was deformed. I really wouldn't. You're a kind, gentle, loving man, and I admire you." I could sense the truth behind my words, and tried to ignore it. _You love Raoul,_ I thought. _You love Raoul, you love Raoul, you love Raoul_.

Erik looked up at me, his face tear streaked, his eyes wide in disbelief at my words.

"Really?" he asked softly.

I nodded.

"That's all I wanted to hear."

Erik leaned towards me. I knew he was going to kiss me.

And for the first time, I didn't stop him.

Erik's soft lips pressed against mine, his arms winding around my waist. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

My whole being screamed at me to pull away, pull away and run to my room. But I stayed where I was, not only because I didn't want to hurt Erik, but I was secretly enjoying the kiss.

_**WHAT?**_

_Stop this _right now_, Christine!_ My conscience screamed at me. _You love Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagny, for crying out loud! Not Erik! _**No**_! What are you _doing_! Stop it, Christine! _

Of course, I ignored my conscience. I was lost in time, in my mind, in Erik. My only thought was Erik.

_Merde._

I love him!

No, I couldn't love him! I just _couldn't_! I belonged to Raoul, I was engaged, he was my fiancée, I was getting _married_!

Besides, I didn't want to hurt Erik even more. Once he realized that I was gone the next day, he'd metaphorically (I hoped) die of sorrow, anger, depression, thanks to me. It would be all my fault.

In the midst of the kiss, I realized that part of me _did _love Erik. Part of me loved him, and part of me loved Raoul. But I could only choose one.

And I had yet to decide who I would choose.

A night, to be specific.

**A/N: So, what do you think? Who should she choose? Be realistic, too. I'm sorry, but Jack Sparrow isn't one of the choices. (My friend wants Christine to join the crew of the Black Pearl and leave Raoul and Erik with their jaws dropped going, "What the...?"**


	10. Chapter 9

I didn't get any sleep that night. Surprise, surprise.

All that night, I tossed and turned, trying to decide. Raoul vs. Erik- not the easiest decision I've made.

What made it harder was realizing that I loved _both _of them. Raoul was my childhood sweetheart, loved me, and he always watched over me, protecting me. Erik was a musical genius, loved me, too, helped me gain my voice, and helped me recover from my father's death. Both had always been there for me, both loved me a lot, and both were very handsome, in my opinion.

But I could only choose one. And that one decision would determine my fate, my life, my future.

If I chose Raoul, I would be living in a large estate, with lots of money, and he would constantly shower me with gifts and love. That's Raoul for you. But I doubt he'd let me perform anymore, especially after what happened at the _Palais Garnier_.

If I chose Erik, I would continue living in the opera, singing whenever I wish, and even though I wouldn't be the richest girl in France, I'd be happy here, too, with my favorite phantom, angel, whatever you wish to call him.

Still, I could only choose one.

And I couldn't decide.

My heart was torn, and each man held a half of it. That didn't exactly help the decision, knowing that whoever I chose, I would still love the other.

That morning, I still hadn't decided. Raoul would be waiting for me in the opera, and Erik would be waiting for me at the organ. That left me with one choice.

I made a split decision: Raoul.

Hey, don't look at me like that! I had known Raoul for longer, he could protect me as well as Erik, and he would provide for me, too.

Only one problem.

It would hurt to have to leave Erik behind. Not only would I miss him, not only would I break his heart a thousand times over, but I knew that Raoul wouldn't let me sing anymore, not after the Don Juan incident. Could I live with no more music?

I was about to find out.

That morning, Erik was ever-so-conveniently out shopping. He left a note, saying:

_**Christine,**_

_**I am sorry I have left you on short notice once again. But, sadly, ink and paper do not buy themselves, and I am in need of some for my music, a song which has been named after you. **_

_**Augustine will be waiting for you on the roof this afternoon; she told me in a letter that she invited you to a picnic. **_

_**I hope to see you soon, mon amour,**_

_**~Erik**_

I couldn't help but cry at his words, and laugh at the thought of ink and paper buying itself. Leaving Erik was going to be hard, very hard. I decided I'd use Augustine's excuse, a picnic this afternoon, and leave with Raoul instead.

Over the course of the morning, I couldn't help but think that I was making the wrong decision by leaving Erik for Raoul. But I would feel the same way if it was the other way around, wouldn't I?

Erik returned an hour before noon. His presence always seemed to lift my spirits, as if he were still my angel of music. He still was, in a sense, but now I knew he wasn't a _real _angel.

Sometimes, I thought that when Father went to heaven, he asked God to send me the angel of music. I know Father did. But when an angel goes to Earth, does he stay an angel with wings? Does he become a normal human? I thought about that often, and drew to the conclusion that he was an angel, disguised as a human.

"Hello, Christine," he greeted with a smile, walking toward me. I forced a smile.

"Hello," I said.

"So, are you going to Augustine's picnic today?" he asked. "I assume you saw my note," he added.

"Yes, I got your note," I said with a smile, holding it up. "And, yes, I'm going to the picnic."

Erik smiled and kissed my cheek. I smiled back.

Until noon, Erik and I played music. He played his favorite songs, and I sang along to them. It might have been the last time I'd ever sing.

Noon came all to soon that day.

"Don't keep your friend waiting," he chuckled as I reluctantly rowed out the gates on the gondola.

"Hurry back," he added softly. I could see the genuine love in his eyes and smiled.

_Don't let me go!_ I pleaded with my eyes. _I'll never come back! I'm going off to marry Raoul, and I'm never going to see you again! Stop the boat before its too late!_

He never received my warning.

~0~0~0~

Raoul met me on the roof where Augustine said we'd have a picnic. He smiled and kissed me.

"Hi," I said sadly.

"What's wrong, Christine?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said. "I'm perfectly fine."

"That's not true."

"Yes it is."

"You're lying, Christine."

"I know," I said with a smile. "It just makes me sad to leave," I explained.

"I'll miss the opera, Madame Giry, Meg, and all my ballet friends," I added after seeing the unfathomable expression in his eyes. Apparantly he thought I meant Erik.

Which I did.

**A/N: Last chapter! I know, you're all sad, right? Told you that you wouldn't like the ending. Told you Christine was an idiot (but you already knew that). Epilogue is up next, then sequel!**


	11. Epilogue of Utter Sadness

**A/N: This is the last installment of Un Amour, Un Duree de Vie. I'd like to thank the following fan fiction writers for their encouraging reviews and advice:**

**The Narnian Phantom Stallion**

**Pearlmaidenredskyla**

**Rosie85**

**Loosecannoncop17**

**Easelygirl101**

**Thank you so much! Reviews are one of the best things about fan fiction, and you guys reviewed a lot! So, thank you!**

**I'd also like to thank my sister, Mollie, for inspiring this epilogue. She agrees with me on the fact that Raoul is the Angel of Hair on Steroids, needs to get a life, and Christine is an idiot for not choosing Erik. She, too, would choose Erik over Raoul any day, as any Phantom phan would.**

**Another head's up, this chapter is in Erik's POV.**

**Enough talk, on with the chapter!**

~0~0~0~

It was getting late. Christine had left three hours ago.

Why hadn't I gone after her? I told her she could only leave for three hours at a time. She had been pretty nice about the limit, and pushing it wasn't like her.

Why hadn't I gone after her?

Because I trusted her.

I trusted her to stay with me. I trusted her to be 'home' on time, to not leave, to not try and escape, with emphasis on _try_. Basically, I would trust Christine with my life, if I had to. But I'd been close enough.

I trusted her with my heart.

And what did she do?

Broke it. Twisted it. Smashed it into microscopic pieces and threw them off the top of the opera house.

She lied to me. She told me she loved me. What a lie- as if anyone could love _me_! She lied, and deceived me even more by kissing me. Well, I must take some credit for that, seeing as _I _kissed _her_, but she didn't pull away as usual. No, she lied, deceived, and betrayed me.

And now I was alone.

Alone, abandoned, betrayed, a heartless fool.

Heartless, only because it had been stolen by a particular curly hair opera singer named Chri-

No! I wouldn't think about that. I would focus on finding her, locking her up, never to forgive her. _No one _escapes the Phantom of the Opera.

How long did I search the opera house? Hours? Days? Weeks? Months? I haven't the slightest idea. But I searched _every _possible place Christine could be, until it was obvious that she had escaped.

Escaped. Gone. Forever.

I would never see _mon ange _again. Never lay eyes on my beautiful Christine.

I wallowed around my lair, a pitiful sight, for weeks. I could only imagine the tourists piling in, saying, _Look at that monster, that self pitying corpse that lost his only love, and is wallowing in his own sorrow. Let's hope you don't end up like that, Johnny!_

One night, I bothered to clean out Christine's room. Everything was in place, her dresses, music, and-

A note. There was a note on her bed.

Ever so slowly, I picked it up, tears welling up in my eyes as I read,

_**Erik, my wonderful, beautiful Erik,**_

_**I am so sorry, so very sorry, more than you will ever know, that I left you. I will probably never forgive myself for your pain. But Augustine told him that I was alive, and he proposed to me. I am going to marry him in two months time.**_

_**I will never forget my angel of music. You were there for me so often, you helped me recover from my father's death, and what do I do? I hurt you, I've hurt you many times, and I will never forgive myself. I honestly don't understand why you love me. **_**I'm **_**the monster, not you.**_

_**I love you, Erik. I really, truly do. But I love him, too, and he loves me, and I've known him for longer, and now I'm babbling. **_

_**You love me, Erik. I know you do. Please believe me when I say that I love you, too. Because I do, I really, truly do. Deciding who to choose on such short notice was hard, very hard, and I'm afraid of regretting my choice of Rao-him. **_

_**You're a beautiful, wonderful, amazing man, Erik. I admire you a lot for that, for putting up with me, and much more. As much as you think you're a monster, you're not. Not in the slightest. You are one of the most handsome men I've ever seen- and I mean it.**_

_**All my love, and much more,**_

_**-Christine**_

I stood there, dumbstruck, for a long time. Me? Not a monster, but handsome? Lovable? How could anyone think that? How could anyone love me?

In her letter, her indecision was clear. She had made an overnight decision. My poor, sensitive, beautiful Christine.

I knew what I had to do, and I only had two months to get the job done.

I donned my white half mask, black blazer, and cape.

Time to show Christine who loved her more.

Me.


End file.
